Page 106 of Alchemised
Ascendance had a particularly heightened influence on Paladians. A sign of Paladia’s deep connection to the gods, according to the Faith. Luc and Lila used to get so intoxicated from it, they’d have trouble walking straight, while Helena—in the true fashion of a foreign unbeliever—had only ever felt anxious, a heavy sense of dread pressing down on her.
That night, dinner failed to appear.
It was the first time in all the months of her imprisonment that there was no meal.
Something was wrong. Even with Ascendance, the necrothralls should still be present and somewhat active. She looked out into the courtyard and saw the two necrothralls stationed by the front doors, still as statues. But there were no sounds of footsteps outside the door, and when she left her room, no one appeared.
Helena went towards the foyer, staying within the path of Lumithia’s silver gleam, constantly expecting one of the necrothralls to emerge. The shadows were black as ink, their edges crisp against the bright white light.
The foyer was empty, the white marble practically glowing under the moonlight. The dragon ouroboros on the floor gleamed as though it had scales, its dark body shimmering amid the white marble.
The weight of Lumithia was oppressive. Helena’s resonance sang in her blood, as though attempting to overpower the nullification, creating a sensation like being in a cage too small to turn in.
She scanned the space, looking for any signs of movement. Necrothralls didn’t need to be consciously maintained. According to research, they could be given orders and then they’d fulfil them repetitively ad infinitum. Even if Ferron was drunk off the Ascendance, they should operate as usual.
Unless Ferron was dead …
She froze in her tracks. What if the Eternal Flame had come during the Ascendance, taking advantage of his disorientation to kill him? The Undying at the party had said the murderer was like a ghost, in and out without a trace except for the body left behind.
She looked around the foyer more slowly. The stark silver-white and black surrounding her made her vision swim as she went towards the front door.
Her fingers trembled as she tried the knob. It wouldn’t turn. She twisted at the lock beneath the handle, but it spun. She jerked, ignoring the pain that shot up her arms, trying to rattle the door, but it wouldn’t budge. It was sealed shut.
Her chest clenched, but she forced herself to head towards the next exterior door.
Locked tight.
She moved through the house, breath coming faster and faster with each door she found sealed.
Was Ferron dead somewhere in Spirefell? Was she going to stumble across his corpse? She braced herself each time she entered a room, certain she’d find blood seeping from the shadows.
Surely the Eternal Flame wouldn’t have left her, though. If they’d come here, they would leave a door or window unlocked. Give her that much at least.
She just had to find it.
She tried another door. Jerking at it over and over until a bright shock of pain left her hand numb.
The longer she searched, the more convinced she grew. Ferron was dead. She was trapped alone in this house.
Soon Stroud would come to retrieve her. Helena would be taken to Central, and if she wasn’t pregnant, Stroud would find someone else to rape her.
Her arms were going numb, her head growing light. She went to the second floor and down the first corridor. She’d avoided this part of the house because both Ferron’s and Aurelia’s rooms were down that hallway.
If Ferron was dead, she had to see it with her own eyes. She had to know, or he’d haunt her.
She reached the first door on the left and stood trying to breathe, to make her hand steady enough to grasp the knob.
It opened silently.
The room was swallowed by shadows. The moonlight poured like a molten silver river through the windows. Her eyes went to the bed. It was empty.
As she stood in the doorway, the air in the room shifted.
She turned sharply towards the desk. It was mostly in shadows, the edge covered in bottles. Then a shadow moved, and the moonlight fell across Ferron’s face, catching his pale hair and skin so that he seemed to glow.
“Helena,” he said softly.
She stood frozen, not sure if she felt relief or terror at the sight of him.
